Kiss It Better
by DebC75
Summary: All boo-boos need kissing, even a Luthor's.


Kiss It Better  
Author: DebC  
E-mail: debchilson@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Keywords: Lex, futurefic,  
Pairing: Lex/Chloe  
Series: none  
Spoilers: Season One maybe.   
Disclaimers: None of them are mine.   
Summary: All boo-boo's need kissing, even a Luthor's  
  
Author's Notes: This one is for Prolific Peggy. She keeps asking me to write Chloe/Lex so she can actually read my fics without compromising her Muses. While this is only mildly Chlexy, I hope it meets with her approval.   
  
"Kiss It Better"  
  
I remember one time, when I was very young, I was beaten up by another kid. The son of a servant, though I can't remember who anymore. I remember him teasing, calling me "spoiled Richie Rich" and shoving me hard down a couple of stairs. I ran, tears of un-Luthor-like weakness and pain streaming down my face, to the den where I'd last seen my mother and father. By the time I got there, I was stuttering--blubbering out what had happened to me like the tattletale I was shaping up to be.   
  
Dad was angry. I'm not sure what pissed him off more, the fact that someone had harmed his son or that I was crying. Luthors don't cry. He glared at me, told me to shut up, and stormed from the room to fire the woman whose son had attacked me.   
  
Mom just knelt down, gathered me into her arms and asked me where it hurt. The question made my shuddering sobs cease as I thought about it. Where did I hurt? I pointed to my knees, where the only hurt I'd sustained was a pineapple slice.  
  
I'll never forget what came next. She leaned down to examine it, and said, in the kindest, gentlest voice I'd ever heard, "Let Mommy kiss it better."   
  
When Mom became ill, it fell to Pamela to look after me and make all those little pains go away. Dad claimed she was babying me, and when Mom was having one of her "better days," he would argue with her over how I was to be raised. As she got worse, he stopped arguing and Pamela was free to "kiss it better" just like Mom used to.   
  
That didn't last long, however. Mom died and Pamela left, and there was no one to comfort me and tell me it was going to be okay. Dad said that was just as well--I was "too old to have boo-boos" let alone to be kissed or coddled because of them. I was, after all, practically a teenager.   
  
He was wrong, of course. You're never too old for accidents and mistakes. If anything, they get worse as grow up: heart aches, drugs, alcohol, sex, driving a Porsche off a bridge in some backwater town in the middle of nowhere, hostage situations, blackmail, numerous attempts on my life... All of which happened with no one there who had just the right touch to make the pain go away. Not even my friendship with Clark could adequately fill that particular void in my life. Unchecked, those little sorrows kept building up inside me until I became very bitter.   
  
Then, one day, I met someone who changed all that. I'd known her for a while, actually. Since my first year in Smallville. But it wasn't it we ran across each other in Metropolis years later, that I finally noticed her. She was a senior at Met U, finishing her journalism degree, and was covering a speech I was giving at a conference. Seeing her in the front row, a pen tucked behind her ear and a tape recorder on hand, reminded me of old times. She cornered me afterwards, asking for a direct quote for her article.   
  
I invited her to dinner, figuring I'd give her that quote and we'd catch up. I'd always secretly enjoyed our old verbal judo. That one dinner date changed the course of my life.  
  
Today, I stood beside Gabe Sullivan at the window of the hospital nursery, waiting for a nurse to bring my daughter--and his granddaughter--to the glass so we could see her. I'd missed her birth, partially because I was out of town when the call in that Chloe was going into labor and partially because my little girl was so much a Luthor that she refused to wait on anyone's schedule to be born. She was perfect, despite being born premature. Little and pink, big blue eyes, and hair the color of ground cinnamon. Gabe said it might darken into a more reddish hue. Like mine used to be. I haven't thought that far in advance yet, myself.   
  
The nurse brought her out to us after they weighed and measured her and placed her in my arms. I felt this rush of emotion like nothing I've ever felt before--pride, love, devotion... the feeling that I would move heaven and earth for this little pink bundle. At that moment, looking into eyes like huge blueberries, I made a promise that I fully intend to keep.  
  
That no boo-boo, no matter how minor, would go untended. There will always be someone there--preferably Chloe or myself--to kiss it better.   
  



End file.
